A Deliberate Nonchalance
by Pollux Unbound
Summary: In which Ulquiorra lures Grimmjow to honesty and gets what he wants. UlquiorraxGrimmjow. Yaoi. Oneshot. GrimmUlqui


**Title**: A Deliberate Nonchalance

**Summary**: In which Ulqiuorra lures Grimmjaw to honesty and gets what he wants. UlqiuorraxGrimmjaw. Yaoi. One-shot.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach; Kubo Tite does.

The hours creep anxiously by. Jealousy is sculpting the landscape of my mind, adorning every plane and mound of thoughts with insecurity. Surely unbecoming of me when on the outside, even my blinking seems to heighten my mystery. Me, ranked number four among the Espada and Aizen-sama's favorite, cringing at Sexta Espada's persecutions of…indifference?

You brush past me, your hands stuffed in your pockets, your lids partly covering those blue orbs, further implying boredom. Strands of your untidy hair dance under the influence of your heedless movements, bouncing rhythmically against your forehead as if to comply with a distant melody. Now my eyes are being dragged by an unknown force to the lower regions of your body; to that notorious hole. I can scarcely focus my attention to that perfect circle, for what I see now are the firm lumps of masculinity embossed on your scantily-clad torso. You cast me a smirk— the payment for my mental and endless exaltations of your features—as my dignified pursuit of your affection is stultified by your lack of proper acknowledgement; a nod would have sufficed, you know. I just watch your back as you pursue him whom you desire, your current obsession, that orange-haired shinigami, who will soon be convicted of folly. I will demonstrate what happens to those who threaten to usurp my claim on your heart.

This is too much for flesh and blood. It follows that I should kill this brat to shorten his misery…oh merciful me. How I wish you could've seen me, could've marveled at my efficiency in eliminating this petty adversary, witnessed how much worthy I am of occupying that space reserved in your mind. A useless prat; Kurosaki Ichigo, you call him? You waste your time obsessing over a deluded roach who could not even manage to touch a hair on my head.

But what is this? I can't kill him. I can't persuade myself to proceed to the finishing touch. It's as easy as squeezing the life out of a suffocating and diseased mackerel. Is it because he is dear to you? Is this how much you have plagued my thinking? I am pitiable. I walk away in much agitation, still uncertain of my actions.

I depart to resume my bland occupation of watching over the prisoner—the healer—and lo! A tangible evidence of your obstinacy and obsession is blasted full force in my face; you took her with you, and I can guess with accuracy what use she has for you. What are you trying to pull wanting to heal the enemy I just defeated? And to think I did it for you?! Oh, you love him, goddammit, to the extent that you violated high orders right under my nose, consequently breaking my fucking heart.

I bear up with you with the swiftness of sound. My eyes meet yours, which only convey your unwillingness to submit, plainly thrusting unhealthy speculations on me that you'd rather duel than give that pest up.

"What do you think you're doing?" I inquire.

"None of your business."

"I see. In any case, hand the girl over; she's mine to watch."

"Fuck you."

"By _you_, preferably."

Ooops. What just happened? I'll tell you what; a contradiction of anything sensible has come to take its abode in Hueco Mundo. I don't know what just made me say that, but what the heck. Whatever will be.

You're staring transfixed at me, and your blinking renders your countenance more confused. Nevertheless, you exhibit no resistance to the arrest of your composure.

"You're just sick. Go away, Ulqiuorra."

By this time the girl has managed to stir the shinigami into consciousness, much to your unbridled delight. I step closer as you flinch warily.

"What mischief is this?" I ask again.

"Yours is yours and mine you leave alone now." You answer defiantly and bluntly, even dismissively.

"Is that so? Shall I take the girl back to her room so I can go back to Aizen-sama's chamber now? So I can leave you and the shinigami boy alone?"

"Fuck you. There I was, days ago, struggling while searching for amusement, with you pulling endless fun and god knows what else with Aizen-sama. And now that I've found one to get myself busy with, you touch down to steal all the fun and ruin it all, huh, prick?"

"I'm merely proposing an impartial arrangement here; you go enjoy the shinigami while I spend the afternoon with Aizen-sama, fair enough?"

"…" Nothing gets better than striking you speechless.

"Well? Silence means 'yes'. See you later, Grimmjaw."

A savage vehemence thunders behind your cool, and your teeth are clenched tightly enough to draw blood, giving away a clear expression of your thoughts. Your grandly staged acts of carefree-ness and nonchalance shatter to a pile of rubbles. You probe deeper into your list of vocabulary to phrase a response.

"Don't." Is all you can say.

"And? What of these two?" I ask, feigning innocence, while gesturing at Kurosaki Ichigo and Inoue Orihime.

"They'll have to go and…stay, stay with me, Ulqiuorra."

**END**

**A/N**: Hahahaha I just love this pairing.


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